Before the DLO, Signed, Sealed, Delivered Pre-Quel
by ruthhill74
Summary: Welcome to the Pre-Quel of Signed, Sealed, Delivered as I see it. This is how I imagine the characters were in high school, and I truly hope you enjoy the great ride!
1. Shane's First Day of High School

**The year is 1994. The place is Ballard High School in Seattle, Washington. Players are:**

**Shane Mcinerney-14**

**Mercedes Holly Wesley-16**

**Also, Oliver O'Toole in Tunkhannock, PA; senior at St. George's School**

Chapter 1: Shane's First Day at High School

With a great sense of trepidation, freshman Shane McInerney walked down the steps of the bus outside her new high school-Ballard High School. She had grown up in the Seattle, Washington area, but somehow, this new area just seemed strange. Since her dad left with no explanation four years ago, Shane and her mom had no choice but to relocate. While her mom had an exceptional job as a receptionist at a local art gallery, it didn't make entering a new school any easier.

Shane had grown so weary of going to new schools in the past few years. She and her mom never seemed to stay in one place much longer than a year, and it was decidedly difficult to find long-lasting friendship. She and her mom were close-almost like pals at times-but with the advent of high school, she so hoped that she would finally be accepted into a friendly circle of girls with her similar interests: technology, art, and National Honors Society.

As she prepared to step off the final step, she had the sensation of flying through the air. Oh no! She had missed the final step, and the entire bus was riveted on her graceless landing. Thankfully, she landed on her behind, but her dignity was gone. There was not a single student who was not laughing, and most of the students surrounding the bus were girls. And from the looks of things, they were mostly the kinds of girls she tried to avoid. She had lost count of how many stuck-up ninnies with foul mouths and bad attitudes had hounded her throughout middle school, and unfortunately, it looked like things were not changing any time soon.

"Look at the poor little dirty blonde girl," cooed one rather tall, lanky blonde. "She doesn't even know how to walk a straight line. I wonder if she's practicing for the local comedy show."

Shane was mortified, but she was prepared to respond to this obvious attempt to discredit her.

"Then again," the girl continued with a smug grin on her face, "she may be nearsighted and forgot her coke bottle glasses at home."

Nervously, Shane approached this girl and looked her straight in the eye. "Excuse me, miss-"

"Miss? The clumsy girl called me 'miss!' She's trying to prove that she has manners."

"I don't know who you are, but I would appreciate you leaving me alone. It's my first day here, and I merely lost my balance. That's all."

This girl cocked her eyebrow. "Really? Maybe you should go back to preschool, baby. They could help you learn to walk there."

"What do you have against me? You don't even know me."

This girl got in Shane's face and said quite pointedly, "Nor do I want to, little tramp." This girl then proceeded to spit in Shane's face while knocking her to the ground. Only after that altercation did the girl turn triumphantly from Shane and declare, "My name is Mercedes Wesley, and don't you ever come within ten feet of me, tramp, or you will get much worse!" And with that, Mercedes skipped towards the school.

Following this scene, the audience that had gathered quickly turned their backs on Shane and walked towards the school. Shane sat in the dirt trying to regain her composure. She was certain that she would be the outcast here thanks to Mercedes' bullying. Shane bit her lip and willed the tears to stay behind her eyes.

"Excuse me, could you use some help up?" a squeaky masculine voice asked her.

Startled, Shane looked up and into the eyes of a pimply-faced boy with large glasses. She rolled her eyes and mumbled to herself, "I would run into the very incarnation of Steve Erkel."

The boy asked, "What did you say? Are you all right, Miss-"

"Shane. Shane McInerney," Shane completed.

The boy extended his hand to help her up. "Wayne. Wayne Watkins. Let me help you up, Miss Shane."

She accepted Wayne's help, and she began to brush off her clothes. Unfortunately, her once-white pants were plastered with dirt and mud, but her red top and denim jacket fared better.

"Miss Shane, you look lovely," Wayne drawled with a sincere, geeky smile. "I'm so sorry that Mercedes did that to you. She does have a tendency to pick on the not-cool kids. Like us."

With a confused expression, Shane replied, "But Mercedes doesn't even know me! How on earth did I get put in the not-cool group already? It's my first day here, for heaven's sake!"

Shrugging his shoulders, Wayne responded, "Gee, Miss Shane, don't you know why?"

"No, Wayne, please enlighten me."

"It's plain to see, Miss Shane. You're much prettier than she is."

Blushing, Shane looked down at her feet. "Thank you, Wayne, but I-"

"Is it too soon to ask you out on a date, Miss Shane?"

"Hold that thought, Wayne," Shane said as she put her hand up in cessation. "Let's get to know each other first."

"How long do you think that will take?" 

With a forced smile, she said, "Oh, let's say seven years, shall we?"

Wayne grinned back. "Works for me, Miss Shane. You're the first girl I know who even said we could go on a date"

"Please, call me just Shane."

"Okie-Dokie, Just Shane."

"No, Wayne, my name is Shane. I would like for you to call me Shane, okay?"

Wayne looked at his pocket watch. "Oh, Shaney, we'll be late for class if we don't hurry now."

"Please, Wayne, go on ahead. I'll catch up."

Wayne beamed at her. "So, can I have a kiss for rescuing you?"

Shane gritted her teeth. "Don't push your luck."

"I'll take a rain check on that, Shaney. Bye!" Wayne ran off without a look back.

Shane took a very long, loud sigh and said to herself. "Shaney. Good grief, that guy is a piece of work. Well, here goes nothing." Shane walked off to her first class of the day knowing that she was going to be entering the longest year of her life. Possibly second only to the year that her dad left. Oh well, she knew she'd survive because she always did.


	2. Oliver, the Reflective Senior

**  
>Oliver O'Toole took a deep breath, and absent-mindedly got into his 1961 blue Jaguar. It seemed that the summer was responsible for more questions in his mind than he had ever known before. And these were the kinds of questions that did not have definite answers. Oliver was a young man who thrived on absolute knowledge, and there was nothing better than a brain challenge, even at 5:30 in the morning. <strong> **  
>As he knit his brows together in deep thought, he thrust the key into the ignition of his amazing car. This car had been the last gift his grandfather gave him before he passed away a little less than a year ago. Summers had always been full of sincere enjoyment because he made the annual pilgrimage to Colorado to visit his grandparents. It was only five years ago that his grandmother unexpectedly passed away from an undetected heart defect. And last October, his grandfather succumbed to stomach cancer. No one (including the doctors) had seen it coming, and even now Oliver found himself blinking back the tears.<p>As he drove the familiar roads of Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania, he allowed his mind to review his past eighteen years on this earth. He had never been terribly close with his parents, and for almost as long as he could remember, work had totally consumed the lives of Mitchell and Barbara O'Toole. His father was an early investor in the computer industry, and he was now a leading executive on the East coast (and beyond) for Microsoft corporation. His father had tried to foster the same interest within Oliver for most of his life but to no avail. If there was one thing for which Oliver had an immense distaste was modern technology. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that his dad was never home due to his schedule-he couldn't even remember a time that his father was present at any of the many activities in which Oliver had participated during his school days. It had gotten so bad that Oliver immersed himself completely in his one true love in life-the written word. Due to this passion, Oliver was set to graduate from St. George's School with a high school diploma (valedictorian, of course) as well as a B.A. in Literature at the nearby University of Scranton (he was assured valedictorian there as well). He was one of the few to ever receive a near perfect score on his SAT (which he took at the age of 12). He had made the decision while still in elementary school that there was no point in being overly involved in extracurricular activities. His father wouldn't show up.<p>

His mother? That was another story. He could remember when he was very young that they had some fun experiences together-especially on Saturday mornings. However, when he was six years old, his mother discovered that she could make hundreds of thousands of dollars by increasing her involvement with Mary Kay cosmetics. Originally, it was just something she did for fun, but by the time he was in third grade, she had received her first pink Cadillac with the company, and he became nothing more than an afterthought. She was never home, and all the good times were gone.

**

**This morning, he was heading into his final year in his undergraduate studies, and this afternoon, he would come back to St. George's School and at ****last** **make an appearance. His demanding schedule saw him up at the crack of dawn most mornings, and in bed some nights at midnight or later. Since his summer had not consisted of excursions to Boulder Creek and his grandfather's favorite fishing hole, he had done nothing but prepare for entrance to his master's degree. Yes, indeed, by the time he was twenty-two, he planned to have a doctor's degree in literature, if possible. He had no time for friends, and certainly no time for family. And his parents were all he had left. And some ****parents they** **were.**

**However, there had been a strange change in both his parents over the past six months or so. His family had been raised as nominal Episcopalians who only attended church on Christmas Eve and Easter. Most of the time, his parents couldn't even make time for that, and so Oliver didn't make time for it either. But his mother had come home from a business trip about six months ago, proclaiming that she had attended a revival meeting and was now saved. His father dismissed all that she had to say, but after a month of nagging, he went with her to this new church down the road. She had invited Oliver also, but he always ignored her or dismissed it.**

**Late that night, his parents came home with smiles on their faces. Oliver had not seen his parents like that in ages, and they both professed to be believers. Believers? In what? They had told him that they were now true Christians. Oliver scoffed at the idea, and he refused to discuss it with them again. He assumed it was some passing fancy, but their zeal only grew. His parents began to give thousands of dollars away to their new church and other Christian ministries. Both of his parents slashed their work schedules, and they even tried to develop a relationship with him. He would have none of it. Oliver discounted everything, and they agreed to never discuss it again unless he wanted to (which he never did). His parents had even gone on some "missions trip" this past summer to the country of Yemen. Who in their right mind travels to the Middle East? Everyone knows how dangerous it is, but his parents would not be dissuaded. Thankfully, they came back in one piece. Except they now were more vocal about their beliefs than ever before.**

**Just a few weeks ago, Oliver had threatened to move out on his own, but his parents begged him to stay. He was so tired of their active church life and church friends, and hardly a day went by that they were not discussing the Bible or some other foolishness. His parents convinced him to stay so that he would not have to get a job to support himself. Sure, his parents were still millionaires, but if he moved out, he wouldn't take a red cent from them. In the end, he saw their wisdom, and he agreed to remain until after graduation.**

**Without fully realizing it, Oliver pulled into his parking place at Scranton University, and he shut off the engine. He took another deep breath to steady himself. This was an all-important year on which he was embarking, and a part of him was rather troubled. His dad expected him to follow his path into the computer world, and his mother always had her heart set on his becoming a lawyer. His grandfather invariably wanted Oliver to pursue a post office career. After all, his grandfather was one of the most decorated postal workers of all time-a legend in his field. He won the Dark of Night Award more than once (Oliver had no idea what that was, nor did he care.). Oliver couldn't imagine a more mundane, menial job than the U.S. Post Office, and he made up his mind early on that he would never do that under any circumstances.**

"**Well, this is it," Oliver mumbled to himself. "Here goes nothing."**

**He methodically got out of his car, and began the long walk up to his first class.**

"**Oliver," a feminine voice called. ** **  
>Summoned from his reverie, he turned to Kathy, a 30-something student who had become a study partner over the past four years. "Good morning, Ms. Rodrick. How are you this morning?"<strong>

**With a big grin, Kathy responded, "Oliver, how many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to address me in such a formal manner?"**

"**I apologize, Kathy," Oliver sighed. "I'm just not myself this morning."**

"**I'm sorry, Oliver,"Kathy said. "How was your summer?"**

"**Fair," he lied. "And yours?"**

**Kathy replied, "Oh, my kids kept me pretty busy. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be raising teens on my own." Kathy's husband had died a couple of years ago, and Oliver had been there as a listening ear through it all. Oliver didn't know why he had connected with Kathy as he did, but there was just something about her. Almost like the mother he never had. "But at least this is the final year."**

"**For you," he said.**

"**You're really going to go through with the Master's Degree?"**

"**I think so. There doesn't seem like anything else for me to do."**

"**I'll pray for you, Oliver. God will show you what to do." She took his arm, as was their custom. "Come on, we don't want to be late. English Lit 4 awaits us."**

**As they walked to class together, Oliver pondered the fact that Kathy also talked a lot about God, but she was never pushy. If he had any friends, she would be the only one he could name. He made a mental note to discuss his parents' strange behavior with her at lunchtime. But even so, now, he could push all of that aside and just concentrate on the beauty of the English language.**


	3. Chapter 3: Shane's Unusual Ride Home

It was the longest day of Shane's life-she was sure of it. Wayne had followed her around like a puppy dog, and Mercedes continued to make a production of avoiding her. In addition to this, Shane's white pants had lovely streaks of mud that she had to tolerate all day long. Thankfully, she had exceptional classes, and the art teacher, Mr. Griffin, already liked her. And she liked him, too. But what teenage girl didn't? Mr. Griffin was a first year teacher, 22, and an absolute dream. He was also a fantastic artist and educator as well. She looked forward to the after-school Art Club, which was scheduled to begin in two weeks.  
>As Shane got everything together for her trip home, she tentatively looked around the school parking lot. She had already made the decision that she was never going to ride the school bus home again, and her plan was to avoid Mercedes at all costs. It was a four-mile walk to her home, but she was prepared to endure it. Maybe in time she would make friends and find someone who could give her a ride.<p>As she pondered her fourteen years on this earth, she realized that rejection had become a way of life for her. When her father left both her and her mom for a New York City stripper four years ago, Shane and her mom both shut down emotionally. Shane's mom, Brenda, had thrown herself into her work and rarely spoke to her daughter about anything except what was absolutely necessary. And quite simply, Shane felt the same way. She and her mom used to do everything together while she and her father were still together. But now, they didn't even talk, let alone see each other.<br>"Going somewhere, Shaney?" The squeaky masculine voice stirred her from her reverie. She turned to face the dreaded shadow known as Wayne.  
>"Hi, Wayne," Shane replied. "Yes, I happen to be going home."<br>"Shaney, don't you ride the bus?"  
>Shane sighed, "Yes, Wayne, but not anymore."<br>"I hear you, Shaney. I don't ride the bus anymore either. I got tired of having my lunch stolen and having the other students sneeze on me and use me as their Kleenex."  
>Shane rolled her eyes in an attempt to not gag. "I could have done without that information."<br>"Shaney, you know, we do live close to each other."  
>"How do you know that?" Shane asked.<br>"I have my contacts in the office. The school secretary will do anything for me."  
>"Well, that's nice. And kind of creepy"<br>"I could give you a lift, you know."  
>"A lift? With what? I don't think you're old enough to drive."<br>"Oh, I don't have a car, Shaney. I have a scooter."  
>"You've got to be kidding."<br>"Nope. It has a very comfortable seat that I would be happy to share with you.""Are you old enough to have a scooter?"  
>"Shaney, do you really care? Do you really want to make the long walk home when your savior prince has offered to get you home in half the time?"<br>Shane considered for a moment. Wayne was definitely annoying, but he wasn't a bad guy. They shared the same classes, and he shared his lunch with her today. His mother was a gourmet chef, and his father was a computer technician. He was also extremely smart. Perhaps she could overlook his obvious geekiness and at least befriend him. She would just have to try to discourage this infatuation he had for her-that was immensely irritating at times. But right now, she figured she would have hopped a ride with the devil himself to avoid walking those dreaded miles.  
>"You know, Wayne, I think I'll take you up on that," Shane responded. "But let's get something straight. You're a nice enough guy, but all there will ever be between us is friendship. Please don't expect me to ever date you or become your girlfriend. It's not in the cards. I don't need or want any romance or love in my life. Friendship is all I will offer."<br>Taking her hand, he answered, "And friendship is all I will offer, Shaney. For now. But don't think I'm not attracted to you because I am. And as long as there is a ghost of a chance-"  
>"Wayne, there is not," she sharply spoke while withdrawing her hand. "And if you are expecting-""No, Shaney, that's fine. We can be friends. But don't be surprised if some time in the future, you fall for me. Do you have a date for senior prom?"<br>"Wayne!"  
>"Just checking," he said with a smile. "Follow me to your chariot, Shaney."<br>"And that's another thing. Do you have to call me Shaney?"  
>"Why? Does it bother you?"<br>"My name is Shane.""Yes, but don't you think that is somewhat of a masculine name?"  
>"I guess I never thought of that before, Wayne."<br>"I just think calling you Shaney makes more sense. It fits the beautiful woman standing before me."

Shane tried to keep the red from racing to her cheeks, but she was unsuccessful. Wayne noticed, but he wisely chose to say nothing. Shane followed Wayne to his scooter, silently thanking her lucky stars that she would no longer have to ride the horrid bus. She couldn't remember the last time anyone complimented her like Wayne did. Although she was not attracted to him, at least she knew that he was genuine and would do anything for her. She wanted to make certain that she never took advantage of him, but she felt that she had a clear conscience after telling her exactly how she felt. Indeed, Wayne would probably carry a torch for her throughout high school, but Shane could deal with that. Especially if it meant she was guaranteed a ride home until she was old enough to get a car!


	4. Oliver's Surprising New Interest

Indeed, this is where Oliver often felt most alive-in Mrs. Dreidel's English Grammar class. Mrs. Dreidel was a fine teacher as far as high school teachers went, but she was no spring chicken. Therefore, when Oliver came to her in his freshman year and offered to teach one course per semester, she couldn't have been more ecstatic. She had seen his work, and she knew that if anyone could teach grammar to impressionable, but ingenuous high school students, he could. As the years had advanced, Oliver had assumed more and more of her workload, and she planned on retiring at long last once he graduated in the spring. She had never had a student like Oliver O'Toole, and she was quite content to end her career at the same time he left the school. After all, who could ever take his place?

Just as he was preparing to begin the daily lecture, Mrs. Dreidel received a phone call. As she spoke briefly on the phone, he sensed that somehow whatever was being discussed involved him. She seemed rather loathe to pass the information along to him, but she was duty-bound. Once she placed the receiver back in its cradle, she quietly summoned him to her desk. Immediately, he was there.

"Yes, Mrs. Dreidel?" Oliver said expectantly.

"Oliver," she drawled, "you have been summoned to the choir room."

Oliver gawked at her. "Excuse me?"

Mrs. Dreidel gave him a wry grin. "Yes, Oliver, you heard me correctly. Mr. Thomas is asking for you."

Oliver's shoulders sagged. "Very well, Mrs. Dreidel, if you will excuse me please."

As Oliver made his way to the choir room, he pondered the reason that Mr. Thomas, the director, would want to see him. Oliver had never had any musical talent whatsoever, and the arts were something that he had always avoided with a passion. He could appreciate an excellent opera or classical recording, but there is no way on earth that he would ever participate in anything like that. He was one of the only people he had ever known who did not have an artistic bone or gene in his body.

Once he had arrived at the choir room, he went through the process of straightening his clothing. While he was always an immaculate dresser, it was a nervous habit of his to adjust his tie, coat, vest, shirt, and pants before embarking on any uncomfortable task. And this was indeed one of the most distressing situations into which he had been placed in quite some time. At least in a school environment.

As he was preparing to enter, Mr. Thomas came to the door and greeted him. "Oliver, so nice to see you."

Somewhat startled and flustered, Oliver replied, "Mr. Thomas, I didn't-how did you-I-"

Mr. Thomas smiled widely. "I saw you walk up to the door from my office. Would you mind following me?"

"Don't you have a class, Mr. Thomas?"

"Oliver, that's actually what I would like to talk to you about."

Together, they entered the choral room office. Oliver was so relieved that there were no students around since he felt completely like a fish out of water. He had never held much of an affinity for choral music anyway, and he wasn't even aware of any trending or popular music since he never turned the radio on (unless it was the classical station). The only CD's he owned were Metropolitan Opera and various classical CD's recorded by well-known symphonies. He readjusted his tie again as he followed Mr. Thomas into the office. Mr. Thomas closed the door and indicated a chair across from his desk for Oliver to sit down.

The silence became quite nerve-wracking for Oliver as he sat and waited for the choir director to state his business. As he met Mr. Thomas's eyes, he realized immediately that he was not the only one who was striving to remain calm.

Mr. Thomas finally broke the interminable silence. "Oliver, I'm sure you wonder why I've brought you here."

"I have to admit, Mr. Thomas, that I am immensely perplexed," Oliver responded as he fidgeted in his chair.

Mr. Thomas smiled and began his oratory. "Oliver, I am a relatively new choral director here at St. George's, and I know that there is a rather established tradition of choirs here. I have had no problem whatsoever getting young ladies to sign up. There's always an overabundance of high school girls who think they are the next Whitney Houston or Paula Abdul or whomever. Getting guys to sign up is another story. High school guys don't think it's 'cool' to sing in choir. They fail to realize that oftentimes the most successful singers out there are men. Women often go crazy over cute guys who can sing. Are you following me so far?"

"I guess so," Oliver responded, shrugging his shoulders in confusion.

"Mr. O'Toole, I have a proposition for you." Mr. Thomas took a deep breath. "I would like to request that you sign up for our choral program."

Oliver shot out of his chair and barked, "What?"

"Oliver, please, calm down. Hear me out."

Oliver slumped back down in his chair with a loud sigh.

"You are a well-respected student at this school. Your intellect is legendary, and your parents are top financial contributors to this school and the community. All the students here either know you or know of you. If you join the choir, the word will get out, and I know other boys will join. In fact, I'm sure other girls who have taken a fancy to you will join. We could potentially have the best and largest choir in our school's history. What do you say?"

Oliver exhaled again and truly began to contemplate what Mr. Thomas had requested of him. No one in his family had ever been a part of a choir, as far as he knew. His mother had some artistic talent, but that was only hearsay as he had never actually seen anything that his mother had done along those lines. He wasn't concerned about the "coolness" factor as that had never been an issue for him. He had such a commanding presence when he was in a room that no one dared to argue with him or even defame him. At least not to his face. And negative comments were always silenced by other students because of who he was. Bullies were something he almost had never had to experience.

"Mr. Thomas," Oliver began, "I have a couple of concerns about your proposition."

Mr. Thomas beamed. "I kind of thought you would. Please, ask me anything you would like."

"Mr. Thomas, I have never had a singing lesson in my life. I'm not even sure if I can sing. Suppose I come into the choir and discover that I have no talent whatsoever in this area."

"Well, Oliver, if that is the case-which I sincerely doubt it will be-I will make you my assistant."

"Assistant? But I know nothing about music or singing or-"

"Oliver, you're an exceptionally gifted student. Your math skills are flawless. What so many people don't know is that math and music go hand in hand. While math may not be your passion, your knowledge of it can only serve to aid you in reading music, singing, and even conducting a choir."

"Mr. Thomas, you must be jesting."

"No, I am not. Have you never read the ancient Greek philosophers?"

"Of course, I have, Mr. Thomas."

"Have you not read that Plato said, and I quote, 'Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything'?"

"Mr. Thomas, I know that many of the ancient philosophers were musicians and appreciated the aesthetic value and moral nature of it. But what does that have to do with me? I'm certainly no Plato."

"Yes, thank God that you're not. What I mean is that you are Oliver O'Toole, and I think he needs a little artistic bent in his life. This is a perfect opportunity. Even Kathy Rodrick agrees with me."

Oliver stared at Mr. Thomas rather strangely. "Kathy? You mean my fellow student at Scranton University?"

Mr. Thomas gave him a winning smile. "One and the same. We go to the same church, and she has mentioned you on more than one occasion. She is an alumnus of this school, and my father was her choir teacher. She has told me how serious you are and that you don't really have any outside interests. She sings in our church choir, and we got to talking on Sunday about you. You see, I'm also the choir director at our church. I knew how dismal the outlook was for our choral program this year, and the board is considering reducing funds for it. After all, academia is all that concerns most schools like this, and music is looked at as a bit of fluff that can be cut off. But I know the great power of music, as does Kathy. It was music that got her through this school and the death of her husband last year. She knows the healing and sustaining powers of music, and she also knows how much fun it can be to sing in choir. To be part of a team. To have that aesthetic outlet for emotions that very few like to talk about. I know that things are not always the easiest for you at home. Don't think that I'm disinterested. You have everything you could possibly want, but your parents are busy with their own lives. I'm sure you get to feeling lonely at times. This choir could give you a real sense of purpose and community. I think it may be able to draw you out and make you a more well-rounded individual. Don't get me wrong, Oliver. I know that you are exceptional. You're basically an academic prodigy. But as they say, all work and no fun makes one a dull person. If I don't miss my guess, you have an emptiness within that you don't like to talk about or deal with. You are private, and that is fine. But this is one way to express who you really are in a safe environment. Music has a way of connecting with our souls in a way that very little else can. So what do you say?"

Oliver sat in his chair and considered all that Mr. Thomas had just spoken. He was aware of the fact that there was something missing within him, and he truly could not pinpoint what it was. His parents seemed to have found their purpose at last, but Oliver only knew books and language. That could not begin to express all that he was. Perhaps this was the answer. And if Kathy had recommended him, well, maybe he should give it a try. She knew him better than anyone else on earth.

"Yes, Mr. Thomas, I will do it," Oliver state quite simply, as he stood up.

Mr. Thomas stood up excitedly and pumped Oliver's hand. "Thank you so very much, Oliver. You won't regret it, I'm sure."

"Mr. Thomas, so when will this choir class meet?"

"Let's see. You have fifth period with Mrs. Dreidel. Do you have an open sixth period?"

"Generally I help out in the school office during that period."

"Well, they already know that I am stealing you away, so why not sixth period then? That is when our Renaissance singers meet."

"Renaissance?"

"We tend to sing a lot of madrigals, motets, and other music from that time period. Once in awhile we do a Gregorian chant. We have even been known to do some modern music written or arranged in the Renaissance style. It's quite challenging music, and it often attracts females. But as you know, men are the heart and soul of this time period. Therefore, your joining this choir will certainly make all the difference in the world."

"Do you wish me to report here today?"

"Actually, no. This class will begin next week. I could use your help the rest of the week, not including today, to sign up people for the class. Ideally, I would like to have at least fifty join."

"How many do you have so far?"

"Including you? Three."

"Three?"

"Don't worry, Oliver. I have a feeling you will change all that."

"I don't know how much good I can do, but I'll report here tomorrow for sixth period and see what I can do. Just don't expect a miracle."

"I never do expect miracles from humanity. But I happen to believe that miracles can happen if the divine element is included."

"Mr. Thomas, are you one of those Christians, too? Like Kathy?" He didn't add his parents to the statement because no one at the school was aware of their sudden change.

"Oliver, I am happy to state that I am. I believe that you were sent here as an answer to my prayers."

"Mr. Thomas, I have no problem with your religious views, but please don't preach at me."

"Don't worry, Oliver, I won't. And thank you again."

Mr. Thomas shook his hand and Oliver slowly made his way out into the school hallway. He honestly didn't know what to make of the decision he had just made. Only time would reveal whether he had chosen wisely or not.


	5. Chapter 5: Shane, the Victim

_(Understand that this is an immense exaggeration of something that happened to me as a freshmen in high school. I was sexually harrassed, but it was not nearly to the extreme that I depict Shane here. This was one of the hardest things I have ever had to write-my first time writing any violence. Don't worry. It will be resolved in another chapter)_

School had been going on for nearly a month, and Shane felt like she was finally starting to settle into campus life. Wayne was her constant shadow, but she was so grateful for his friendship and daily rides to and from school. Most of the time, he kept his relationship-oriented questions to himself, but even when he did happen to come out with something that indicated his obvious interest in her, she generally just laughed it off.

The most outstanding part of associating with Wayne is that everyone else essentially left Shane alone. She did share a class with Bombshell Blondie (Shane's secret nickname for Mercedes), but Shane merely sat on the other side of the room so Mercedes would leave her alone. Thankfully, the first day incident seemed to be a relic of the past.

On this particular October day, Shane was waiting outside the science classroom for the teacher to arrive and open the door. Shane had lunch right before this class, and she found that having some down time before class was a beneficial thing. No one typically loitered in this hallway, and she had been doing this since the first week of school. She would often read during this time and simply enjoy the peace and quiet. It also meant that Shane only had to share a quick lunch with Wayne because she had told him of her preference for getting to class early and reading. She neglected to tell him that she was not able to wait inside the classroom (she was sure he would insist on coming with her if she did), and up to this point, life couldn't have been better.

Unfortunately, Shane was not aware of the fact that Mercedes had essentially been stalking her. Mercedes had not forgotten that first day when Shane arrived at the school. It was unequivocally clear that Shane was a threat to her, and it was up to Mercedes to see that Shane was vanquished from the beginning. Up to this point, only losers like Wayne had associated with Shane. However, Mercedes noticed how bright Shane was. As the semester went on, Mercedes was certain that students would begin to go to Shane for homework and study help. Mercedes had to discredit and/or intimidate Shane in some way, and she had the perfect idea.

Yesterday, Mercedes had met with a group of boys who always did her bidding, no matter what. They were enamored with her (who wasn't?), and when she said "Jump," they said "How high?" This group of boys were notorious for playing pranks and getting into trouble, and it was generally orchestrated by Mercedes. Mercedes thanked her lucky stars that none of the administration nor teachers had ever connected her with this group of troublemakers.

When lunch was halfway over, Shane went to her customary spot, and Mercedes was waiting close by. With a wicked smile, she looked at her watch and began to tap her foot in anticipation and impatience.

"Where are those boys?" she muttered to herself.

Just at that moment, Jaleel, Murad, Bo, Wilson, and Matt showed up. She greeted them with a silent wave and finger to her lips. In complete solidarity with their manipulative leader, they copied her action for action.

Mercedes whispered, "You know what to do, boys."

All five boys nodded and put OPERATION SHANE into practice. Mercedes watched delightedly in the shadows.

Shane was leaning up against the wall of the science room, completely engrossed in her book. She never noticed the group of boys come up to her until they were basically upon her. She quickly set her book down, and she looked at these boys in great confusion.

Trying to remain calm, Shane said, "Hello, gentlemen. Can I help you?"

Jaleel, the leader of the pack, stepped forward with a leering smile. "Hello, Shaney-Waney. How are you today?"

Quite perplexed, Shane replied, "Uh, do I know you?"

"I don't think we've been formally introduced, but I remember you." As he spoke, he inched closer to her. Shane's skin began to crawl, but she tried to remain calm. "You're the one who fell off the bus the first day."

"Yes, that did happen, but-"

The other boys in the group began to laugh as they went over to her backpack, purse, and book. Shane watched in horror as they picked up her personal items and rifled through them. She watched them empty the contents of her purse on the ground, tear pages in her book, and throw every book and paper out of her backpack. Shane had no idea what to do. She repeatedly asked them to cease, but there was no stopping this group. She was amazed that the commotion did not elicit a crowd or at least another teacher. Where were the adults in charge when you needed them?

Once the boys had caused harm to her possessions, they laughed boisterously and began to shove Shane from every side imaginable. She attempted to remain calm, but no matter what she did, the boys refused to stop. They pulled at her clothes, her hair, and even snagged her stockings. She couldn't believe this was happening to her!

Finally, after an interminable length of time, four of the boys backed off, and Shane felt like she could finally breathe. But she didn't know that Jaleel wasn't done with her. He took her chin violently in his hand and pulled her face towards his.

"Now, Shaney, for the best part." And with a wicked smile, he gave her the most slobbery kiss she could fathom. She tried to push him away, but he kissed her forehead and her cheeks with reckless abandon. By this time, Shane couldn't hold the tears back. When Jaleel was done, he threw her against the wall and ran off laughing with his friends. Poor Shane was crumpled on the floor. She had no idea what had happened or why. She sobbed loudly, but she was grateful that the group was gone.

"I have to get myself together, " Shane whimpered. "I can't let anyone see me like this, and my stuff is a mess. I can't believe that anyone would do this to me, but if I tell anyone, they'll say it was my fault. I just wish I knew what was going on."

As Shane began to slowly clean up the mess the boys had left behind, Mercedes made her way over to Shane. Mercedes was so pleased with how well things had gone, and there were still no spectators. She had the perfect way to end this incident. It should ensure that no one, including Shane, would report it to the school authorities.

"Why, Shaney-Waney, what on earth happened here?" Mercedes drawled in a high-pitched voice. "It looks like someone left a bit of a mess around."

Shane tried to ignore Mercedes, hoping she would go away. What Shane did not realize is that Mercedes never lets anyone get away with ignoring her. Quite angrily, Mercedes pulled Shane up by the scruff of her collar. Unfortunately, Shane dropped everything she was holding as Mercedes forced her to turn towards her.

"Hey, freak, I'm talking to you!' Mercedes yelled in Shane's face. Shane tried to control her tears, but she was unsuccessful. Mercedes capitalized on this. "Crybaby, what's the problem? Did someone call you bad names?" Mercedes cooed with a wicked smile.

"Mercedes, what do you want?" Shane whispered.

"Freak, I want it understood. You are a nobody, and I don't ever want to see you hanging around me or any of my friends. I saw what happened. You practically threw yourself at Jaleel, and I think you would have forced yourself on him right then and there if he hadn't slapped you and run away with his friends. If you ever breathe a word of what happened here, I will spread the most vicious rumors about you that anyone has ever heard. You aren't no lily white girl. You are white trash, plain and simple, and that's all you'll ever be." She let go of Shane's collar and slapped her face quite hard. "Understand?"

Shane nodded quietly.

"Good. Now get down there and clean up that mess before the teacher comes." Mercedes kicked Shane to the ground with a wicked laugh. She then walked off. Shane was left to clean up the mess on her own. She had no idea what she was going to do next.


End file.
